auld lang syne, my dear
by musicalfreak
Summary: "Klaus," I mutter, leaning into the weight of his hand against my cheek, he holds me together while I slowly fall apart, "Finally." New Year's Eve drabble


_12/31/2043 _

_11:30 pm_

It starts as a slow burn, this feeling of anxiety that climbs the length of my body. I know it's there, it's coming quickly but at the same time it takes me by surprise, swallowing me up and suffocating me before I can react.

I cup my hand tighter around the champagne flute and my bracelet whispers to me, jingling just so.

I can't believe I wore the stupid thing. I place my drink on the mantle beside me and turn my wrist over, fighting with the clasp. All this waiting has finally taken it's toll on me.

As I fumble my ear prickles, the kind of twinge I feel when I'm walking home at dusk or lingering in my car after running an errand. The kind that wakes me up, takes my mind from the present; the kind that reminds me of him.

My hand drops to my side and I'm weaving through the crowd, cautiously and meditated I glide between a man in a suit, a woman in a designer gown, the waiter carrying gold champagne.

I've emerged through the sea of people; my hand rests on the silver knob leading out to the garden. I push the door open, it creaks slightly and as I step out I'm enveloped in floral. The garden is immaculate; tea lights are here and there, illuminating the cobblestone path I begin to follow.

The wind pushes my hair off the back of my neck and I swear I can smell him, musk, amber, tobacco. My eyes close and I inhale, my palms open at my sides and I want to feel his hands against my own, my body pressed to his.

Thirty years and I can remember the smallest detail about him. I'm consumed by him, my every thought.

It floods through me like a storm; he pulls my hair away from my collarbone, his lips so close to mine yet they never touch, his breath hot against my neck, his forehead against mine as we sway to the forlorn music.

I feel the drift descending on me; the memories slowly begin to fade. My eyes open and I'm alone.

A laugh escapes my lips before I can will against it.

The path begins to curve, and aimlessly I follow it further and further away from the house party I'm attending. I have no idea where I'm going, but the path is confident so I step on, one foot in front of the other.

It leads me to a beautiful willow tree, something I had never seen in person. I gape in awe of the magnificent tree, stretching out my hand to feel its hanging leaves as they blow in the soft wind.

"_Again and again the two of us walk out together under the ancient trees, lie down again and again among the flowers, face to face with the sky."_

I step beneath the dropping green, and suddenly I'm hidden as the words of Rilke float about my mind.

I've grown to appreciate trees. They last a while, taking several years to change. They keep me standing on terrible days and remind me to hold on as the lives around me slowly change while I, of course, don't.

I smile and place my hand against the bark.

An extra footstep presses against the grass, and I'm no longer alone.

I choose not to move, to either be found or ignored by him.

He begins to step away; perhaps misreading his own better judgment, and then he is still. The two of us stand silently, me hidden among the branches and he just there, separated by nothing and yet everything.

We've met like this before, quietly, without seeing. But I feel him, and he feels me.

Sometimes, despite our implausible vocabularies, there can be no words for us.

I hear his lips part and then they are pressed back together. I imagine him scratching his forehead or furrowing his brow.

He begins to take a step forward, and then retracts his foot.

We are like this, a step forward, a step back, a step forward, two steps back, a foot is lifted to step forward, and we turn the other way.

Waiting, waiting, for his next step.

Will we ever finish what we've started?

The sigh escapes me, and he knows I'm growing tired.

A raucous from the house interrupts our almost moment, numbers being counted and then shouts of happiness.

A new year is upon us as fireworks begin to light up the sky.

I know he's gone now; his feet have disappeared from beneath the draped branches.

I find it safe to emerge, and I do carefully. Extending my arm gently to push the branches to make an arch, I step through and the garden has become brightened from the sparklers in the sky.

I'm distracted enough not to hear the first wisp of branches, but the steps beneath the willow's fallen leaves I hear instantly.

I turn to face the hanging fronds, my feet angled to face his, a step further and they'd be touching.

The leaves quiver, much like my heart, as the wind pulls to the east and I see the smallest morsel of his outline.

"Don't disappear" I whisper, raising my palm out in front of me as if to take his hand, hoping he's mirroring me against the swaying branches.

I step forward, finally, intentionally. His breath quickens and I hear his heart as mine continues to flutter softly.

I must close my eyes or I will run myself.

Thirty years surrounds me as my second step hesitates; the hiding, the waiting, the longing.

I hear the branches part and the pad of his thumb is against mine. It's soft and chilling as my index finger meets his. Our hand intertwines suddenly, fully and I'm overwhelmed with emotion.

I open my eyes and a smile spreads across my cheeks as he's pulling me closer, closer.

Our hands stay locked and I'm pressed to his chest, breathing him in, musk, amber, tobacco. He's warm and it's electric, his hand his beneath my cheekbone, dragging a lazy oval with his finger.

"Klaus," I mutter, leaning into the weight of his hand against my cheek, he holds me together while I slowly fall apart, "Finally."

We're wrapped around each other, his arms around me and mine around him. His forehead is pressed to mine, where I've dreamt it so many times before.

Slowly, slowly, beneath the green tendrils, he kneels forward and enshrouds me. His lips take mine for a moment but are then met with similar ferocity. My hands meander up his chest, pulling a fist of his suit into my palms. I am pulled into him, my feet hardly against the ground as our lips dance together effortlessly, finally, finally.

He takes my lower lip between his own, only to release it seconds later. His tongue glides against my lower lip, awaiting permission. My lips part and our tongues meet as his embrace around me tightens. We both then recede, with only my lips drawn to his. I inhale, feeling his chest heave the same. We stop momentarily and his forehead is against mine once more.

No words, only breath. In and out, in and out, repeats slowly, gently as I stand against him and he against me beneath the grand willow tree.

Feeling is enough, if not more than enough. After thirty years of waiting, thirty years of wanting, in one single moment, all that's needed is one pure unadulterated feeling. At last he is mine, and I am his.

Here, now, this,

Forever.

If anything can endure such time, it must be love.

* * *

**A/N:**** Yellow dear wonderful readers! Happy New Year's *insert Kazoo nose*. May 2014 bring you all that you long for my friends! **

**Inspiration for this little diddy brought to you by ****The Time Travelers Wife**** by Audrey Niffenegger, and the song **_**Wings**_** by Birdy.**


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